Summer Skin
by Caddy Link
Summary: As summer moves to fall, one will realize that love is watching someone die.
1. Chapter 1

**Summer Skin**

Chapter One

The days were warm and bright, forcing residents of D.C. to slather on sunscreen whenever they went outside for long lengths of time. The not-a-state was bustling with activity as people left the confines of their homes to explore the great outdoors. Daycares took elementary school-aged children on trips to the Capitol, and teenage baby-sitters brought kids to parks. Cheers and giggles were audible by nearly every patch of green in the area.

It was a sort of celebration, not uncommon in the country as the days of summer dwindled down and made room for a new school year. Bathing suits went on sale for half price, drawing the last of the pool-partiers to the water. Store shelves were fully stocked with #2 pencils, magic markers, and loose-leaf paper.

Agent Seeley Booth had been relaxing for much of the three months, taking off as much time as possible. He wanted to spend practically every moment with Parker, teaching him how to play football or fight Darth Vader. He traded in his standard suit and shoes for tropical shorts and flip-flops. He knew it was somewhat ridiculous for a man of his caliber, but he couldn't help but love the freedom.

He pulled the Kool-Aid popsicles from the freezer and sat them on his kitchen counter. Parker, who had been coloring a picture of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, looked up with excitement when he heard the ice breaking free from the plastic. Booth held tight to the stick and lifted a pink-lemonade Popsicle from the ice cube tray. He handed it to his son, who was nearly salivating in anticipation.

He chuckled as he rescued one for himself before walking over to the Philadelphia 76ers calendar hanging next to the pantry. Red x's mockingly counted down the days of his vacation. Tomorrow, Rebecca would go over to pick up Parker and Booth would go back to work. It wasn't all bad news, he told himself as he used the red pen to cross off another day. He did miss the squints, although he'd never tell them so directly. He especially missed Bones, with all her quirky facts and aggravating ways to start an argument. As Parker dropped the now somewhat-soupy popsicles on the floor, he said a little prayer of thanks that he would soon be around big people once again.

Dr. Brennan was very pleased with herself. In Booth's absence from the lab, she had managed to properly identify six victims of a warehouse fire. Deputy Director Cullen had not assigned another agent to the lab, so the squint-squad had had to make do with less dramatic cases. Although she was completely caught up on her paperwork and had not endured one threat on her life in the past three months, she would be glad when Booth returned to give them cases. Zach and Hodgins were getting especially restless, racing more beetles than ever before.

Brennan finished looking over the next chapter of her new book and pressed the save button. She knew people expected her to be nervous about writing after what had happened with the red tape, but she wasn't afraid. She had been right about the events not being connected directly to her and was not about to let any left-over speculation stop her creative drive. She turned off the lamp that sat on the corner of her desk, grabbed her purse, and left for the evening.

She arrived at the Jeffersonian early the next morning to find Booth showing Angela Polaroids of his time off.

"I thought Brennan was kidding when she said she saw you dressed like a surfer. You have _got_ to let me have a copy of this," the brunette said through a grin.

Booth quickly slipped the photo from her fingers. "I don't think so." He heard heels on the floor and glanced across the room. "Hey, Bones, did you have a nice night?"

"It was alright. Did you have a good vacation?" she asked.

Angela grabbed the picture back. "It sure looks like he did." She dashed off to her office before he could retaliate.

"You know she's going to make about a hundred copies of that thing and give it to everyone she knows," Brennan said.

"I'm FBI," Booth replied, "I'll get it back from her."

Brennan raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Okay, so I won't. It's one picture; how much harm could it cause?"

"Did you come to chat or do you actually have a case?"

He feigned being kicked in the gut. "Wow, Bones, I've been gone for two weeks and all you care about is a case?"

"I saw you three days ago, Booth and I thought we caught up quite sufficiently then. We are at my place of business, which is where I'm paid to do actual work, so let's get started."

"I'm not going to win this one, am I?" He made a pouty face.

She was walking to her office and didn't notice. "Probably not."

He followed her and sat atop her desk while she chose the more comfortable couch. He picked up a manila case-file and passed it to her. He watched as she read in silence.

"Mr. Dutchless just found the remains in his backyard?" she inquired.

"We'll have to ask him that personally, but he says he wanted to install a pool and was starting the digging when his shovel hit something. He uncovered what he thought were old dog bones until he saw the skull."

"So my remains have been compromised?" she asked with her voice full of distaste.

"The cops aren't sure about that. They haven't been trained like you have, so they don't have a clue how a skull's supposed to look beyond the basics."

She grabbed a Jeffersonian coat and waved him out the door.

He paused to re-tie his shoelaces, showing off colorful socks.

"I know you like outlandish socks, but don't you think palm trees and flowers are a bit much?"

He stood up straight, sticking his chest out just slightly. "Although my vacation is over, summer is still here for twenty more days. I plan on shedding my summer skin as slowly as possible."

They drove to the crime scene in a suburban neighborhood with Brennan changing the radio stations every so often. She never seemed to be satisfied with one style of music, but always had to have something with a beat.

When Booth pulled up to the house, he was dismayed to find the block swarming with neighbors. Everyone wanted to get a glimpse of a real-dead skeleton. He led her to the scene with his hand at her back. She had become accustomed to the gesture, but it never failed to send a sort of shiver up her spine.

"Body's over there," said a cop with a toothpick sticking between his teeth. He pointed to a small crowd of people.

A bald man dressed all in flannel stood next to the hole in the ground. Beads of sweat lined his forehead, and his calloused hands were shaking. Brennan looked ready to charge ahead, but Booth pulled her back.

"Let me do all the talking," he whispered in her ear. She nodded and they walked forward.

"Are you Mr. Dutchless?" Booth asked in his interrogating voice.

"Yes," the man replied almost inaudibly.

Brennan stepped in front of her partner. "Did you touch the remains? Did you move them or contaminate them in any way?"

The man, shocked by her bluntness, stood frozen on the spot.

Brennan turned to Booth. "What's wrong with him? Why can't he talk?"

The Special Agent smiled at Mr. Dutchless. "Relax, Bones." He adjusted his tie. "Sir, did you touch the body at all?"

Mr. Dutchless swallowed hard. "As soon as I unearthed it and was able to tell what it was, I stopped and called you folks straightaway." He peered at the stern-looking forensic anthropologist. "I didn't touch it with my hands, if that's what you want to know."

Brennan walked around him and knelt down to examine what was in the ground. She tilted her head to the side and took in the size and shape of the bones that told the most. Booth directed Mr. Dutchless to another cop to take his statement and then watched Brennan's actions.

"What do you think, Bones?" he asked after a moment.

"It's a female. She was a teenager, between fourteen and seventeen, and approximately five-foot five-inches tall." She turned around and looked up at him. "Why is this a federal case?"

His face grew serious. "If that's who we think it is, she was kidnapped about two years ago from North Carolina."

"Who do we think it is?" She stood up and flattened a crease in her pants.

"Kastyn Davidson, age sixteen, a junior at Northeastern High School in Elizabeth City. She went missing Homecoming night of 2004. Her boyfriend was the number one suspect, but that never went anywhere. Now, hopefully, that will change." His eyes were dark and full of determination.

Brennan could tell he'd stirred over this case for a long time and was glad to have another crack at it. "Why is that?"

"Her boyfriend, our number one suspect, was eighteen-year-old Matthew Dutchless."

A similar look found its way into her eyes as she ordered her team to carefully exhume the rest of the remains and send them, along with soil samples, to the Jeffersonian. She was going to do whatever it took to get Booth his peace.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to my super-awesome reviewers. You had me smiling daily.**

**Summer Skin**

Chapter Two

Angela Montenegro held up her pencil sketch of the victim from the hole. When placed next to a large photo of Kastyn Davidson, all could see that they had a visual match. Booth looked downfallen for a second, but then he seemed to brighten up.

"Good," he said taking the sketch from Angela, "Now let's get to work. We have a murderer to catch."

Brennan stepped up close to the table. "Hodgins is going to have to find out for sure, but my first examination shows that she was dead and buried for approximately two and a half years."

"Is there anything you need to stay here for?" Booth asked once they had left the group and met in her office.

"Not really. Hodgins knows his job and Zach can handle anything anthropological that comes up. Where are we going?"

He pulled his keys from his pocket. "First, to your apartment to pack, and then to Elizabeth City."

At her apartment, Booth perused her CD collection while she threw some clothes into a suitcase.

"How long are we going to be staying there?" she yelled from the back room.

"No more than a couple days, but I'd pack for four just in case." He picked CDs off the rack and stacked them to the side.

She came out carrying a suitcase and he slid the CDs into a plastic bag.

"What are you bringing those for?" she asked.

"It's going to be a long ride, and I think we should always have music. I don't want to risk getting in areas with static."

"Where are we staying in Elizabeth City?" She allowed him to take her suitcase without a fuss, but took the bag from his hand.

"Some hotel. I called Cullen and had him make reservations. The address is on my phone, which happens to be charging in the car."

"How many rooms?"

"You sure are asking a lot of questions today. One room," he said and locked the door as they left. She was famous for leaving her home unlocked.

Her eyebrows raised high.

"Two beds," he added with a smile. "I made Cullen promise."

They hit the road at the same time, it seemed, as every other person in the tri-state area. Booth tried to maneuver the car around the masses of people, but the line of bumper-to-bumper vehicles was relentless. He had her select a CD and was surprised to find it wasn't rap or something else likely to give him a headache.

She'd chosen Tegan and Sara, two girls whose voices were opposite enough to blend together. She didn't bobble her head to the beat, but closed her eyes and let the tension she had begun to feel melt away. He clicked on the air conditioning, trying his best to make them both comfortable. They had a tendency to fight whenever they were cooped up together for too long and he was hoping to avoid it. The last thing they needed right now were distractions.

Booth found he liked this music. It wasn't something he would've picked out, but the lyrics were nice enough to be recognized. As he was stopped behind several cars, he took the opportunity to look over at her. He had thought she was asleep, but he noticed that she was mouthing the words to the song. A smile graced his lips.

"You like this one, do you, Bones?" he asked.

She sat up straight and wiped her eyes. "It's a good song."

"Yes it is."

Booth pulled the SUV over at a McDonald's just outside of Virginia Beach. They went inside, glad to stretch their legs after a long ride. After picking up their order, they went outside to sit on a hill overlooking the town.

"This is a good view," she commented, "it almost doesn't matter that we're not close enough to see the water."

"On the way back we'll stop oceanside," he promised.

She smiled thankfully. They finished their food and climbed back into the car. As soon as she got used to the vibrations of the vehicle once again, Brennan was out like a light. Booth grinned to himself and turned the volume of the CD down, now John Mayer, so it wouldn't disturb her.

She stirred when the car came to a halt and slowly began to wake. When her eyes opened fully, she looked at the driver's seat and was startled to find it was empty. Placing her arm on the back of the seat, she searched through all of the windows, looking for a figure that resembled Booth. The rest of the parking lot was empty but for other cars, and she didn't like the feeling of being alone. Their luggage was still in the back of the car, and his phone sat in the center console. She was tempted to get out and look for him, but decided to wait and see if he returned. A moment later, the automatic locks went up and she jumped. He pulled the back door open and she willed her heart to stop racing.

"Hey there, Sleepyhead," he said. "I checked in. Let's grab our stuff and get to bed."

She stepped into the night air and felt a little chill. "It looks like this city is feeling fall."

"Not at all," he said as he sat their bags on the ground. "It's still summer. Two more weeks."

The next morning he woke up to the sun bright in his face with the sound of the shower running in his ear. Breakfast was sitting on the center table, but it didn't appear as though she'd touched anything. He got up to grab a glass of water and could smell her shampoo through the door. _Vanilla_, he sensed. He sat on the couch and put his feet on the table, conserving his energy for the efforts they were bound to make today. He closed his eyes and picked up the sound of her singing through the water. It was a simple song, one he vaguely remembered from one of yesterday's CDs. She had a nice voice. He'd always known it, but rarely had the chance to listen to it. _This is nice_, he thought.

The water shut off and he unzipped his suitcase, busying himself so she wouldn't know he'd been listening to her. She could be pretty self-conscious about things like that. He pulled out his clothes for the day and was whistling to himself when she opened the door. Her hair was still soaking and she wore no make-up. He did a double-take. He didn't think he'd ever seen her like this, so plain and, unsurprisingly, pleasant to look at.

"It's all yours," she said softly before heading to the breakfast table.

By the time he was finished preparing for the day, she looked like her usual self. They each drank one last cup of coffee and hit the road for the Davidson house.

The home was in a nice neighborhood, painted a soft shade of gray with dark gray trim. White shutters hung by each window and a rose garden stood next to the walkway. Before turning off the ignition Booth said, "You better let me do the talking."

At this point in their professional relationship, she knew when to let him deal with the sensitive stuff. He had a way of making things sound better than they really were. Whereas she was one to be comforted by reality, she knew that this wasn't always the case for everyone else.

They walked slowly to the door where Booth rang the bell twice. A man in his mid-forties answered. His eyes were kind, but tired and were framed by glasses with wire rims.

"Can I help you folks?" he asked politely.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian."

The man shook Booth's hand. "We'd been wondering when we were going to see you again, Agent Booth." He stepped back to allow them entry into his house.

The foyer was covered with family photos. Most were of a teenage girl with long blonde hair. She had a bright smile and seemed to be genuinely happy in every one of them.

"Let me get my wife," the man said before directing the two of them to chairs in the living room. He exited, but soon returned with a short woman. She looked much older than her husband, but Booth guessed it was just premature aging.

"I'm Eric Davidson and this is my wife Madelyn," he said once he'd returned. Booth stood to shake their hands once more.

Madelyn looked timid, but her voice was strong when she said, "I heard you may have some information for us about Kastyn."

Booth nodded. "Two days ago we found a body and yesterday we identified it as your daughter. We're very sorry for your loss."

Silent tears slid down the cheeks of both adults. Brennan was forced to look away. She was used to parents breaking down in sobs, but never the kind of tears that seemed to be somewhat cheerful, as if they were just glad their daughter was no longer in pain.

"Can you tell us anything else?" Eric asked after a minute. He wiped his eyes with his shirt-sleeve.

"Not at the moment, but we'll let you know when we find everything else out. Right now we need you to tell us everything you remember from the time when Kastyn disappeared."

The Davidsons began to tell their recollections of the story when Brennan's phone rang. She excused herself and stepped into the foyer.

"Brennan."

"Hello, Dr. Brennan, it's Zach. I've figured out cause of death."

"What did you find?" she asked quietly. Booth looked at her, questions in his eyes.

"She was shot several times, but the killing bullet penetrated the base of her skull."

"Thanks, Zach. Did Hodgins figure out how long she's been there?"

"You were right. She'd been in that backyard since October of 2004."

She hung up and rejoined the group in the living room. Booth finished gathering details and they headed to Northeastern High School.

"What'd you find out?" Booth asked once they were clear of the Davidsons.

"She was shot to death, probably the same day she disappeared. And she was buried soon after, if not that same day as well."

"This is going to get messy, Bones, so I hope you're prepared. Matthew Dutchless has been arrested three times since then on three different charges and has resisted arrest each time. If it turns out he's our guy, he's not going to come down easily."

She sighed as they rolled into the sun. "They never do."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much to my reviewers. You're super.**

**Summer Skin**

Chapter Three

Northeastern High School looked like the average American high school to Booth. Kids walked around in packs, chatting up storms and gossiping about everything from dates to bad hair days. A few people pointed as they walked by; Booth had his dark sunglasses and looked ominous to even the most trusting eyes. On the way to the principal's office they noticed a bulletin board for students. In the top corner, now somewhat covered up by postings from places looking for employees, was a missing poster for Kastyn Davidson.

Booth knocked on the door twice and looked at his partner.

"I know," she said, "you'll do all the talking."

He displayed his teeth as they were beckoned in.

A tall African-American woman stood to greet them. "You must be Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan," she said. "I got a call this morning from Deputy Director Cullen, saying I was going to be visited by some very important people regarding Kastyn Davidson."

"How long have you been the principal here, Miss...?" asked Booth.

"Pershing," she replied, "And I've worked at this school for about fourteen years. Although this is a big school, I knew Kastyn pretty well."

"Did you think her boyfriend was trouble?" Brennan interjected. Booth pursed his lips, but didn't say anything.

"I hardly knew Matthew, but I knew of him. At the time I thought it was crazy when everyone suspected him of harming her. He seemed like a nice person, and most students thought he was a good man. The ones who knew Kastyn said she was crazy about him."

"I'm sensing a 'but' in that statement, Miss Pershing," said Booth.

"About a month after Kastyn disappeared, we had heard nothing. The investigation of Matthew had stalled and she was labeled as just another runaway kid. Knowing Kastyn like I did, I knew she wasn't the type of girl to runaway without telling anyone, so I brought in some of her friends and asked them to tell me anything they knew. Several of them," she said, "had the distinct impression that if anyone had convinced her to run away, it would be Matthew. Kastyn would do anything for him. I still didn't think she'd just up and leave, so from that point on I was convinced someone made it so she couldn't come back."

"Did you tell the police any of this?" Brennan asked.

"I did, but the local police said they'd been over every stone when it came to Matthew Dutchless."

"Obviously not if we found her lying in his backyard," she scoffed.

"Bones!" Booth said under his breath. "Thanks for your time, Miss Pershing."

"Please let me know if you catch whoever did this to her," she said.

"Will do," Booth promised. When they were back in the confines of the SUV, he turned on his partner. "What was that, Bones? You know better than to release information like that."

"I'm sorry, Booth, but I doubt she's going to go tell the whole city about it. Someone needs to know the truth. We aren't going to get anywhere by lying to everyone."

He put the car in drive. "We can try." He drove them back to the hotel, practically demanding silence. Every time she tried to turn on the radio, he flicked it right off. She jumped out as soon as he stopped, not waiting for him to follow her up. Thankfully, they each had their own key card.

She pulled her laptop from her bag and sat on the couch. She had meant to send an e-mail to Angela once they reached the hotel the night before, but she'd been too tired. Booth entered the room five minutes later with take-out menus in his hands.

"I think I'm going to get some Chinese; do you want anything?"

She didn't look up from the computer. "I think I'll just stick with room service. I wouldn't want to make you go out of your way."

"Bones, do we really have to do this?" he asked exasperatedly.

"You're the one that has a problem. I'm tired of hearing things you apparently already know. I wouldn't have come if I knew we weren't going to be doing anything productive."

"Next time I won't invite you, then," he spat.

"Fine by me," she retorted.

A bell rang on the laptop, informing her she had received a new message, probably a reply from Angela.

"Hi, Sweetie," it read, "I hope you're really having more fun that you're letting on. Being alone with Booth for (at least) two days should give you guys plenty of time to, oh, I don't know, explore. Don't fight the whole time; it's a waste of energy for the both of you. And I'd really like everything to be back to friendly when you return. At the very least, just don't kill him."

Brennan laid her head back on the couch. Booth was changing out of his suit and into one of his Hawaiian shirts and she took in the sight of his bare back. She'd said it before, and now her mind was saying it again, _he's certainly built well_. She took a deep breath and then took the plunge.

"Angela says we shouldn't fight the whole time we're here."

He finished buttoning the shirt and stared at her. "Angela's a smart woman."

"I'll try not to blurt out anything too important if you let me talk once in awhile. I'm your partner, not some show girl that sits off in the corner."

"That sounds good to me." He picked up the menu and walked over to wave it in front of her face. "Now, how about that Chinese?"

The next day was even less eventful than the first. They spent much of it interviewing Kastyn's friends and learning nothing more than that she was a 'nice girl' and Matthew Dutchless was 'scum.'

"We definitely need to check out Matthew again," Brennan stated as they left the school for a final time.

"Considering we found her body in his backyard, I'd have to agree with you."

He drove for about two hours before stopping in a parking lot. She looked to her right and saw the ocean out the window. In the evening light it was breathtaking. Booth walked around the back of the car and pulled out a paper bag.

"How's about a little picnic?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

They walked and sat on the beach close to the water. "This is amazing," she gushed.

"I've always loved the ocean. It makes the rest of the world seem kind of trivial."

"Everything _is_ different here," said Brennan. "What made you stop?"

He took a bite of a ham and cheese sandwich. "I promised you I would. I've never been one to go back on a promise."

They ate sandwiches and cookies, enjoying the simplicity of an elementary school meal in a beautiful place. She had been quiet for awhile and he looked over at her, noticing some Oreo crumbs on her chin. He reached over and brushed his finger across her skin.

She felt the familiar tremble of flesh and met his eyes. His finger stopped moving, but stayed where it sat.

"You had some crumbs."

"Oh," she whispered.

Their eyes remained locked until a seagull flew over head and screeched. Booth lowered his hand and began to pack up the leftovers.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded and followed him back to the car, in which they drove for an uneventful four hours back home.

Once they reached the Jeffersonian, they strode inside, not bothering to get a change of clothes.

"Any new information?" asked Brennan when she reached the top of the platform.

"Not really," Zach replied, "although personally I think this Matthew character is looking sketchier and sketchier by the minute."

Booth grabbed Brennan's arm. "We're going to go get changed and then hunt down Matthew Dutchless. We'll let you know how it goes."

Angela grinned devilishly as they left.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much for reviewing! I'm glad to see people are liking this story. Enjoy!**

**Summer Skin**

Chapter Four

They stopped by her apartment where each changed into fresh clothes and drank a cup of coffee. Neither had slept in awhile, but adrenaline was pumping high and each was ready to get out and bring down Matthew Dutchless. Booth was jumpy and kept the radio off. He wanted to concentrate and wanted to avoid all distractions.

He pulled up to the house which now appeared to be empty. Crime scene tape still covered the back fence, but the neighbors had stopped loitering a day or two after the cops had left. They exited the car and stared across the street.

"I think I should have a gun for this," Brennan said.

"Not now, Bones. I'll carry the gun; you just stay behind me." He sensed her look of disapproval, but chose not to see it for himself. They crossed the street slowly and carefully, making sure not to startle anyone that might be unaware. The last thing they needed was retaliation.

Booth banged on the door. "Mr. Dutchless! Mrs. Dutchless! If you're home, please open the door. It's Special Agent Booth. I need to talk to Matthew."

The door didn't open, but through curtained windows, both he and Brennan could pick out movement. He stepped in front of her. The curtains shifted.

"FBI!" he yelled, "Open up!" He held his gun and badge high, showing he was indeed with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He moved a few paces forward and banged his hand on the glass window.

He had stepped back and was waiting for a response when the window shattered. He blocked his face from flying glass as the next window shattered as well. He moved further back to give himself a clear view into the house. Another round fired, and then another. He needed to see the shooter before he could discharge his own weapon.

Booth looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure Brennan had run for cover, but she stood planted on the spot. He went to push her to the ground, but not before the gunfire came more rapidly. She dropped quickly and his heart fell with her. He knew in his gut that she'd been hit and a fire lit in his stomach. Sirens sounded in the distance, but he didn't dare wait for backup to arrive. Whoever was inside could take out half the neighborhood in that time.

He charged forward, his gun at the ready. It was not standard protocol to do so, but he jumped through the broken window, firing his whole way in. At this point he wasn't concerned with rules; he knew it would come back to burn him, but all he wanted was revenge for the woman bleeding in the street.

He heard a groan coming from an adjacent room, but knew that the man could be faking. He was risking everything, pursuing the criminal in civilian's clothing, but he felt he wouldn't get another opportunity. He kicked the bedroom door in, spraying the wall with bullets.

Standing before him was a man who was not yet dead. Booth had hit him in the leg and he could tell the man, now identified as Matthew Dutchless, was in pain. The guns were pointing at opposite persons and each wore a look of extreme hatred. Booth saw Matthew's finger flinch, but before he could pull the trigger, Matthew Dutchless was shot down.

Booth, aware that the gunfight was over, turned and ran from the building, ignoring orders for him to stay where he was. He jumped back through the window and dashed to the street. He grimaced at the bloody puddle lying in the center of it. Cops and passersby stared at the man who was still holding his gun. He lowered it to the ground before running to the nearest agent he recognized.

"Where is she?" he asked, voice shaking. He was scared shitless, furious with himself for leaving her, and not knowing whether she was dead or alive.

The man just shook his head, unsure of what he was being asked.

"Bones!" he hollered. He ran from person to person, looking for some kind of sign of his partner. He stopped when he saw the crowd split and Cullen walk out.

The Deputy Director had a grim look on his face and quickly placed a hand on Booth's shoulder.

"Where is she?" the Special Agent asked once more.

"She's over there." He pointed back behind the crowd to flashing lights.

Booth ran, dodging people until he reached an ambulance. The doors were still open and three medics were working on a woman. His heart fell further at the sight of her, but he at least knew she was alive. He climbed aboard and took in the full sight of her. Her eyes were closed and her clothing was matted with blood. As far as he could tell, she'd been hit twice. He considered that a miracle for the number of bullets that had been fired their direction, but still kicked himself mentally for letting her out of the car. One wound lied in her arm, the other in her stomach.

He took a seat and grabbed hold of her hand as the ambulance sped off. He looked to one of the medics. "Is she going to be okay?"

The man remained silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer the man with so much pain in his eyes.

Booth swallowed. "Tell me the truth." His voice was quiet and his eyes never left her face.

"It doesn't look good. I'm not a surgeon, but even I can tell it's going to take nothing short of a miracle to repair the hole in her stomach. If they get the chance, of course. This bleeding doesn't look like it's slowing down any."

For only the second time since he'd known her, Booth covered his eyes with his free hand and let the tears flow. This was the first time, though, that he had ever cried on her behalf. He hated himself more in that moment than he'd ever hated anyone else. He didn't doubt his skills as a Federal Agent; he'd done his job. No, he doubted his skills as a partner and as a human being. He'd let her down. This wasn't something she was just going to get up and walk away from. She was going to have to fight like hell to see another day. He prayed to God that she would. He was half convinced that if she died he'd throw himself off a cliff.

He was only half convinced of that because he couldn't let himself be fully convinced she'd die. He had to believe she'd pull through.

Although autumn was still a few days away and the cold had not yet come through, he knew the last of his free-spirited summer skin had been shed.

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**More to come! Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**As promised, here's more. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. **

**Summer Skin**

Chapter Five

Booth jumped from the ambulance as soon as it stopped moving. A trauma team was waiting to assess Brennan's condition and he stepped out of the way. It nearly killed him, but he managed to release her fingertips when the stretcher began to roll away. He walked slowly to one of the free chairs in the waiting room and sat with his head in his hands. He had no more tears left and now felt completely numb. Although the gunfire had ended just twenty minutes earlier, to him it felt like an eternity.

Footsteps came down the row and stopped in front of him. He glanced up to see a doctor in a pristine white coat. She clasped a clip-board between her hands and a blue pen hung down from a string.

"I don't mean to bother you, Sir," she said, "but I need to know what happened with your friend."

He sat up straight and observed the pale green walls of the hospital. _What had happened? What made him allow her to follow him? What made him abandon her on the street and hunt down her victimizer? What made him lose all sense of professionalism?_

The doctor knelt so she had a better view of his face. "How about we start with her name?"

"She's Dr. Temperance Brennan, a forensic anthropologist with the Jeffersonian Institute in D.C." An image of her flashed in his mind. She was always professional, so professional.

"And how was she shot?" The woman poised her pen in preparation to write. Every detail helped and he knew it, but how could he divulge it all without making things sound completely ridiculous?

At this point it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but her. He couldn't go on without her. "I'm with the FBI and she's my partner. We were going to talk to a suspect who opened fire on us. I tried to shield her, but I couldn't. It all happened so fast."

She scribbled quickly, her pen making noises like dancers. "It always does." Though she'd said it with a smile, he couldn't help but sense sarcasm.

It was a line he'd used plenty of times while interrogating suspects, and never realized how sickening it felt to hear it when one was telling the truth. She stood to walk away, but he held onto her.

"Can you tell me anything about her?" His eyes were pleading with all the power they could hold.

"I'm not allowed to say much, but at this point she's holding on. They're going to be in surgery for awhile. I'll let you know more when it becomes available."

He thanked her before rising himself and exiting the building. His cell phone was in his jacket pocket although his badge was missing. He pulled the phone out and dialed the number of someone who would not be entirely happy to hear from him.

"Booth! It's a damn good thing you're not sitting in front of me right this minute. I ought to fire you for what happened back there."

"Yes, sir," Booth replied to his boss, Deputy Director Cullen.

"You should've radioed for back-up after the first shot was fired. Not only did you put yourself in danger, but a civilian. And now she's paying for your mistake!"

"I'm well-aware of that, sir."

"This is not the time for you to agree with everything I say, Booth. I want to hear you defend your actions."

"Maybe later, sir. Right now I've got to take care of Dr. Brennan. She's alive for now." He didn't wait for a reply before punching the off button. His next call was to Angela who was a very frantic woman.

He explained the situation as best he could, but no matter what he said, she wouldn't calm down. He realized, though, that it was probably his fault. He couldn't find any words to comfort her, as there were no words to comfort him.

Booth finished his phone calls to various other government officials and then returned to his spot in the waiting room. The doctor had returned once with little news and told him to go home; Brennan wouldn't be out of surgery for another hour at least, and he looked like he could use some sleep. He watched her walk away and took in her words, but flat out refused to leave. He had already abandoned her once that day; he wasn't about to do it again. He sat back and leaned his head against the wall. After a moment, he let his eyes close and was soon asleep.

His shoulder was shaken softly at three the next morning. The same doctor stood in front of him, her golden hair now falling out of the clip that had held it up for the previous hours. He tried his best to pop the kinks out of his neck before standing up.

"Well?" he asked. He could've dodged the question, hoping she'd give him the answer without him asking, but his desire to know the truth outweighed any fears.

"She survived the surgery, but she's far from out of the woods. She lost a lot of blood and now runs the risk of clots or infections. Your friend's one heck of a fighter, so let's hope she keeps it up." She smiled and patted Booth's forearm before walking back to perform her duties.

"Wait!" he called down the hall. "When can I see her?"

"We want her to get as much strength as possible before she has any visitors. Why don't you go home and get some sleep? Then you can come back around ten and see her."

He relented, knowing Brennan wouldn't want to see him looking like a beaten dog. He realized he didn't have a car and hailed a cab to take him home. His bed was warm and inviting, but it provided no comfort. All he wanted to do was sleep away the hours until he could go see the woman that had such a hold over him.

At eight o'clock, his alarm rang and he began to prepare for his visit. He took a hot shower and stared at the dirty water running down the drain. He'd probably looked terrible yesterday, and guessed that other visitors must've thought he was a patient. He put on a dress shirt and slacks, wanting to look nice, but not so impersonal as to go for the FBI Agent look. He squirted gel in his hands and ran a comb through his hair. After a quick breakfast, he grabbed his keys and headed out on the road.

The late summer sun made it look like any other morning. Kids were still out on the streets, enjoying the last few days of vacation. He knew that regular schools went back in session in three days. His stomach did flip-flops the whole way to the hospital as he rehearsed in his mind the words to say to her. He wanted to explain his train of thought; he wanted to make her understand why he left her. He wanted her to forgive him for doing so. He could go to Confession and ask God for peace from his guilt, but it would mean next to nothing without her approval.

The walk to the front desk seemed like the longest in history. He undid one of his shirt buttons, trying to let air get in. The last thing he needed was to pass out. He received her room number and moved down the hallway. As he reached the door to knock, a nurse stepped out of the room.

She smiled brightly. "If you are who I think you are, she's been asking for you."

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. "She has?"

"Oh, yes. I don't think she likes being alone. Mind you, she is still a bit groggy from the anesthesia, so she might not have a clue what she's saying."

"I can see her, though, right?"

The nurse giggled. "Of course you can. She'll be pleased." She stepped aside and allowed him access to the room.

Booth waited until he was alone in the vicinity. He pushed the door open and saw her head turn to the side. She was watching his entry and he felt the flip-flopping of his stomach once again.

There wasn't a change of expression on her face as he stepped fully into her room, but her eyes showed that she recognized him.

He took a step forward and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Hey, Bones," he said. "How're you doing?"

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**For everyone involved, this story is far from over. Stay tuned for more. **

**Please review. I love hearing your thoughts.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. If I didn't reply to you, sorry, my computer has been freaking out. I'll definitely reply this time. I hope you all enjoy and have as good a weekend as I'm planning to.**

**Summer Skin**

Chapter Six

Brennan's skin was pale and her hair was ratted, but she managed a smile as Booth entered the room. "Pain medication is amazing," she said. She tried to sit, but pain shot through her arm and stomach and she collapsed.

"Don't," he said stepping quickly to her. He sat in a void on the bed and took hold of her hand.

"You look sad," she stated, examining his face. His eyes had grown serious as they counted every scratch and bruise that was visible out of her gown.

"I don't like seeing you like this." He stroked her fingers, hoping to bring some color back into her body.

"I don't like being like this, but it's not your fault." She watched his eyes, searching for a message, but the medication was clouding her thoughts.

"You know that's not entirely true," he replied and looked away.

"Really? You're the one who shot me? I could've sworn it was someone else." Her voice was full of sarcasm and her face showed not a hint of the earlier smile.

"No, I didn't shoot you, but I may as well have. Bones, I should've locked you in the car, or better yet, I shouldn't have taken you with me at all."

"Do you really think that would've worked? If you had told me not to go, I would've found some other way to get there. We'd be in the same position." Her eyebrows were drawn down in a scowl.

He stood up to face the wall. "Probably not. I'd be lying in that bed instead of you."

"And that would help the situation how?" Brennan knew that getting worked up wouldn't be good for her medical condition, but she couldn't lie around and watch him beat himself up over an accident.

"For starters, I wouldn't be worried about losing you." He crossed back to her bedside and collapsed into a chair.

"Booth, this isn't your fault. I came along because _I_ wanted to, not because you made me. Stop acting like you did this to me. The whole point of having visitors at a hospital is to cheer you up, not bring you down."

"We'll talk about this later," he finally said.

She looked him square in the eye. "No, we won't." After a moment she added, "Did you get him?"

He found the fear in her eyes, the unmasked uncertainty that begged to know if her nightmare was over. "I didn't have to. Backup arrived and somebody took him out. I didn't stay long enough to figure out who it was."

Somewhere in the middle of his story, she had begun to close her eyes, the fatigue of the week's events continuing to catch up with her. "Good," she breathed, "that's one less murderer to worry about. Although, it would've been better if you could've gotten him." She closed her eyes completely and drifted off to sleep.

"I think so, too, Bones," Booth whispered and stroked her forehead. He stayed by her side and watched her sleep for a few hours until a nurse came to change her bandages.

"I'll come back later," he said and walked to the door.

"Tell everyone at the lab that I'm okay, would you?" she asked and sucked in air when the nurse prodded her stomach.

He tossed her a smile and waltzed out the door, pleased their words had gotten lighter. He was bound to feel guilty for awhile, and now that he knew she didn't blame him, he could go ask forgiveness from someone else: God.

Seeley Booth stepped down the stairs at the front of the church and continued on into the afternoon sun. A breeze picked up and he wished he had a jacket with him. He walked the six blocks to where he had left his car and then drove to the Jeffersonian. It felt odd to go into the building and not see his partner. She was usually hunched over an examination table or her desk; he'd smile as he watched her and grin wider when she noticed him. It always gave him something to look forward to.

Now, as he breezed past security, he was unsure of where to go. The door he'd normally head to lead to a darkened room. Where he stood, he could see most of her workspace: the platform, the door to her office, and her co-workers.

Angela, obviously disgusted by something Hodgins had shown her, moved down the stairs, stopping when she noticed Booth. Her face filled with concern, but then faded into relief when she decided he wouldn't be there if he had bad news. She crossed the floor quickly and was at his side before he could try to meet her halfway.

"Hey, how is she?" Angela asked, resting her hands on her hips.

"I don't know all of the details," he said and mentally kicked himself for not asking more specific questions at the hospital. "She's talking, so that's a plus; she's even arguing. She's tired, though, and still a little sore. I left when the nurse came in. I didn't want to invade her privacy. I didn't have the heart to tell her yet that as soon as she gets out, she's coming home with me."

Angela's mouth spread into a wide grin. It made her heart swell to hear this man speaking about her best friend. The way he answered a simple question with a novel told Angela that Brennan was often on his mind. She stood still, listening to him go on about how he planned to prepare his apartment for her stay, and thanking whoever could hear her thoughts that her best friend had someone to care for her with his whole heart.

"Booth," she cut in as he was listing all of food he wanted to buy, "you're a really great guy for wanting to do all of this for her, but you have to remember, this is Brennan we're talking about. She's going to fight your care. Just take it slow, alright?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. "You're right. Moderation. Maybe I should lose the baby monitors."

She rested her hand on his shoulder and chuckled. "That's probably a good idea."

At six o'clock that evening, Booth's cell-phone shrilled, waking him from his late afternoon nap. His voice was laced with sleep, but he perked up after hearing what the caller had to say. He threw on his shoes and ran down three flights of stairs to the parking garage. He jumped into his car and sped off to the hospital, hoping he wasn't too late.

He pushed through the doors, going faster than he should have up to her room.

It was empty.

He paced the hall in search of a doctor or nurse. He ran into the bubbly woman from the day before. "What happened? I got a call to come down here immediately."

She was shocked by his full-bodied stature; she'd only seen him slouched. "I'm not sure."

"What? Find out!" He followed her to the information desk on the floor, straining to hear her conversation with the receptionist.

The woman turned around, a grim look on her face. "The doctor was in earlier and changed her bandages. She thought she could handle getting up and walking, but her stitches couldn't. Most of them popped and she started bleeding. She might not have been found if she hadn't managed to press her call button. She's in surgery on the second floor now."

She expected a response, but he didn't care. He dashed off to the nearest elevator and punched the button labeled '2.' He pushed past people who ordered him to stay back. He glanced into the windows of each surgical room, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. A doctor clad in scrubs brushed past him, paying him no notice.

He'd reached the end of the hallway when he heard the sound of frantic beeping and people rushing. He looked into the window. There she was, tubes running from her mouth, six hands attacking her stomach. Booth closed his eyes, but wrenched them open at the sound of a flat line.

It was then that he realized something: love is watching someone die.

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**Please let me know what you thought.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry it's been so long. This Labor Day weekend, I'm celebrating the first week of my senior year in high school with a bunch of writing. Enjoy.**

**Summer Skin**

Chapter Seven.

Booth's heart dropped to the floor. He pressed his hand against the glass and stared in. The doctors were shouting at one another, relaying orders back and forth. One looked up and was shocked to see a strange man at the window, but made no motion to demand his retreat.

He watched countless movies where loved ones died, but Booth had never pictured this feeling of utter emptiness. The solitary note rang in his ears and he longed for it to stop. He wished he was anywhere but there, on a beach, at the mall, with his partner by his side. He would've given anything to reverse time. He was willing to trade places with her if it would help.

The flat line had changed to an irregular beeping. Booth wasn't sure what this meant exactly, but he knew it was better than the solitary ring. A surgeon stepped through the sealed door and pulled off his mask.

"Sir, I understand you must be concerned about your friend, but this area is restricted to surgical personnel only."

Booth crossed his arms and looked at the man. They were so like each other; both had a duty to save lives, and sometimes inform people that nothing could be done. He took a step forward.

"Is she...is she okay?" He could hardly get the words out and was almost afraid of the answer.

"She's alive, for now. It appears as though the original injury was more severe than originally thought. We've got work to do, and we'll do our best."

"Alright." Booth nodded and turned to walk away.

"Hey!" the man called after him. "From what I hear about her, she's one hell of a fighter."

For some reason, this made Booth smile. "That's very true."

Angela was near hysterics, and being consoled by Hodgins, by the time he reached the lab late that evening. Truthfully, he was surprised to find anyone there, let alone the entire squint-squad.

"What...happened?" she asked between gasps for air.

He sat down on the couch of the lobby and rested a hand on her knee. "Bones was, well, being Bones. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and was walking around and her stitches popped. She almost bled to death." Booth left out the part about going to the surgical wing and, just for a second, being completely sure he had lost his best friend forever.

"But she's okay now?" Angela was now able to form solid sentences, but her eyes were red and puffy.

"She was alive when I left."

"That doesn't exactly answer her question," Hodgins stepped in.

Booth looked at the four of them in turn, Angela, Hodgins, Zach, and Cam, and his face was grim. The bags under his eyes said the words his lips wouldn't. They all understood what it meant; Brennan was far from out of the woods.

He left them an hour later, and after calling the hospital (Brennan was still in surgery), went home and crawled back into bed.

Peaceful sleep would not come.

He tossed and turned for hours on end, dreaming of the shooting, of sitting by her bed, and of standing outside the operating room. In one dream, she yelled at him for putting her in the hospital. He tried to defend himself, only to find he had a recently discharged gun in his hand.

He woke and found himself drenched in sweat with all of the covers spread on the floor. Daylight streamed in through his bedroom window. The clock read eight-thirty. He had the sudden thought of needing to be at work in half an hour. He jumped in the shower and was completely ready by nine-ten. As he picked up his keys and passed a mirror on the way to the door, he remembered that he'd been given the next few days off. Cullen and the other agents were still investigating the shooting.

He kept staring in the mirror and thought he looked ridiculous dressed in his crisp black suit. His tie was bright red with yellow and blue smiley faces dotted all around. _Bones would've gotten a kick out of this_, he thought. Booth glanced down at the keys in his hand and made up his mind. He was going to see her.

He stopped at reception and was informed that she was in a room in ICU. He didn't run this time, taking the moments to think of what he was going to say.

The nurses station on the fourth floor was deserted, and Booth stood at the counter for two minutes before an elderly woman in green scrubs sat behind it.

"What can I do for you, dear?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm looking for Temperance Brennan," he replied and watched as she shuffled through some papers.

"Oh, here it is. Ms. Brennan is in 407. She hasn't woken up since surgery, but you are welcome to see her."

He thanked the woman and walked off.

Her door was closed, and when he pushed it open, he was taken slightly aback. She looked paler than before, and her eyelids were dark and sunken in. She was hooked to more wires and he hesitated to step forward. He pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat down.

"Hey, Bones," he said softly, almost choking on the words. "You don't look so good. But you made it, you know. The doctor said you were a fighter, and he was right. Of course, I knew you'd make it." The lump was rising further in his throat. "No, that's a lie. You know, you really had me scared there for awhile. I've said before that I didn't know what I'd do if I ever lost you, and I was almost faced with that. That kind of thing's not good for a man."

It was getting hard for him to see; the tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. "Look, I know you forgave me already, but I'm still so, so sorry. I'm going to make it up to you, you'll see. You're probably going to be sick of me by the time I let you out of my sight again," he said and chuckled. A tear rolled down his cheek. He did nothing to wipe it away.

"I wish you were awake; I wanted to show you my tie. It's just the kind of thing you'd tease me for. I miss that. Sure, I suppose I could go show Angela, but it's not the same." He scooted forward and took hold of her hand. "I guess I just wanted to tell you to get better. My life is pretty boring without you, Bones. I haven't had to explain anything to you in two days. And you haven't gotten to tell me all about some bone thing. I really need you to pull through this." More tears dripped from his eyes and he swallowed hard.

"I need you, Bones. It's just that simple. I don't think I've ever needed somebody this much, can you believe it? I want to be able to tell you when you're awake, you know, so wake up soon. If you go, if you leave me after everything we've been through, I'm going to have to go with you. Do us both a favor and just wake up and get better, okay?" He rubbed her fingers with one hand and used the other to wipe the tears from his eyes. He rested his head on her bed and soon drifted off to sleep.

It felt like an eternity had passed when he woke up at the touch of someone's hand. He assumed it would be a nurse asking him to leave, but it was a finally-conscious Brennan.

She half-smiled when he lifted his head. "Hey. I was wondering if you were going to be there all day."

He rubbed his face and looked at his watch. It was three in the afternoon. "Oh, sorry. I was just wiped out, I guess."

"I bet. One of the doctors said you gave me quite a speech."

His eyes widened. "Yeah, uh, I guess I did. Did he tell you what I said?"

"No, but he said it was definitely worth repeating."

Booth grinned at her, glad that she was back. Maybe he'd repeat that speech right now, just for her.

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